


Seconds like Sand

by Deliophobia (Kiss_Shining)



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Drabble, Dragon Ball GT - Freeform, Flash Fic, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, No Plot/Plotless, Offhand Fic, Saiyan Culture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-18
Updated: 2019-09-18
Packaged: 2020-10-21 05:03:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20687936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kiss_Shining/pseuds/Deliophobia
Summary: In a moment of weakness, Pan and Trunks find solace in each other.





	Seconds like Sand

When she came in, it was as still as a stone.

The Briefs house wasn’t a relatively loud one to begin with; unlike hers, where Goten, Uub, and Grandma Chichi—who stayed with them after Grandpa Hercule’s passing—stayed with her father and mother and generally made a lot of ruckus, the Briefs family only had Bra and Trunks, and they were relatively low-key people. It was true that Bra invited Marron to hang out some days, and Bra could be a riot when she was with Marron, but that was unusual especially after she left for college. And Trunks was usually away on business, so more often than not, Capsule Corporation was nothing more than an empty shell. The only thing that gave it life was Vegeta and Bulma.

But now, there wasn’t even that much.

Pan hesitated at the entrance, unsure if it were an appropriate time to pay her respects, but Bulma already saw her. She gave a slow nod, sniffling once before she turned back to the pile of ashes, and she entered quietly, solemnly.

For her, Vegeta was just as good as family. She grew up with only the faintest memory of Grandpa Goku that she held onto like a lifeline and her father’s stories of how great, noble, and compassionate he was. Six years had passed, and she only saw him for a short span of time—just one year, and even that much she had to fight and claw her way for—and then another ten years passed afterwards. But Vegeta was always by her side. Where Grandpa Goku was not, Vegeta was, and she loved him so dearly for that. She remembered when she wanted to continue her training, and Vegeta was more than eager to teach her. He was rather curt about it, but he never failed to push her to the ends of her limits and beyond. He treated her like his second daughter, and she was so grateful for that.

He was gone now. Gone, incinerated, and resting in a plain black box.

She delicately knelt down next to Trunks, who was rubbing his mother’s shoulder with a strong hand, hovering over her, and when he squeezed, she finally burst into tears, and the silence cracked and broke, yielding to a lull of heartbroken sobs and wails.

Everyone who Vegeta would have wanted to come to his passing was here. Bra was in a corner, staring at nothing, her eyes vacant and cold, and Pan’s father was trying hard to stay strong—much like Trunks—and he gripped her mother’s hand tightly. She squeezed back, and Pan looked away. Instead, she glanced back at Bra, who continued to stare at the wall, and back at the box. Slowly, she got up from where she sat and walked over to Bra, wrapping her arm around her shoulders as she knelt back down. Bra leaned towards her chest, her bottom lip trembling, but she didn’t make a sound, and Pan felt something solidify within her. The tears that began to accumulate under her eyelids dried back up, and she took a heaving breath. She straightened her back and kept her eyes forward.

Ten years slipped away from all of them like grains of sand through their fingers, and yet these few hours sluggishly flowed like molasses. A second felt like ten minutes, and ten minutes felt like an hour. After two hours, it felt painful, excruciating. And even though she was trying to stay strong, Pan began to tire. She was exhausted, despite doing nothing but sitting in one spot for hours, and she just wanted everything to be over. She didn’t want to spend time looking at a pile of ashes; she wanted to be out training again with Vegeta and go gallivanting like she used to—

But he was that ash.

She bit her lip until it bled, and she silently took in the ceremony, drank it and detested it like bitter spirits in the back of her throat. Four hours later, when the priest finally took Vegeta and flung him into the skies—a Saiyan ritual, Pan was once told, in case a Saiyan died on the battlefield or if a Saiyan was the last survivor on a planet close to home, with hopes that that Saiyan would live forever among that planet and the stars—everyone silently agreed that they would stay together, just for this one night. They all left, even Bra, who gave Pan a weak smile and followed after Goten, leaving Trunks and Pan alone.

Afterwards, Pan crawled back to where Trunks was and sat down. She heard a cough, and she peered at him.

“…You’re a middle-aged man now. Uncle Vegeta would be ashamed if he saw you now,” she murmured.

“Well.” He cleared his throat again and rubbed his eyes. “Hopefully, he’ll excuse me this once.”

“I can’t imagine Uncle Vegeta ever turning a blind eye to something like that. He doesn’t like sentimentality.” Still, she slid her hand towards his and touched his pinky finger. Trunks coughed one more time before clasping her hand in his, still staring straight ahead, just like she was.

“You’re crying too, you know.”

With the hand not holding his, she swiped at her cheeks, but it was already too late. Now that everyone else was gone, she finally relaxed, and with her and an empty box across from her, she couldn’t hold it back anymore. The second set of tears were just as hard to stop as the first, and before she knew it, she began to sob quietly, slowly curling into herself. Trunks released her hand to press her waist, and she moved her head on his lap, covering her face with her arms. He rubbed her back soothingly as she cried, until she finally couldn’t take it anymore and sat up, wrapping her arms around his torso. He reciprocated, and Pan felt droplets of water cascading down her neck and onto her back.

They remained unmoving until the sun rose and set back again. When a day passed, they rose simultaneously, their arms supporting each other. Without so much of another glance in the other’s direction, they left to rejoin with the rest of their family, and time began to slip through Pan’s fingers once more.

**Author's Note:**

> Surprisingly, this was harder to write.
> 
> Just to clarify: this takes place ten years after the ending of GT.


End file.
